


Wicked Vice, Secret Indulgence

by Gerec



Series: The Dirty Bad [11]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Erik Lehnsherr, Collars, Come Eating, Dildos, Dom/sub, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Prostitution, Gags, Gangbang, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Overstimulation, Restraints, Rimming, Rough Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gerec/pseuds/Gerec
Summary: Stryker is a human who hates all mutants. Erik is his favorite mutant whore.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Logan, Erik Lehnsherr/OMC, Erik Lehnsherr/Sebastian Shaw mentioned, Erik Lehnsherr/William Stryker
Series: The Dirty Bad [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/839166
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38
Collections: X-Men Kink Meme 2020





	Wicked Vice, Secret Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [XMen_Kink_Meme_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/XMen_Kink_Meme_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Erik, captured and bound, becomes the dirty little plaything of his worst nightmare: humans. 
> 
> Is it a dark harem!AU? Prison!AU? Straight-forward, sadistic torture? Does he enjoy some of it against his will? Go dark people, go as dark and dirtybadwrong as you can!

Stryker is already waiting in the suite, tie loose and nursing a scotch when Erik arrives for their session.

“Ah right on time,” Stryker says, waving him over with a warm smile, always so genial at the start. “Would you like one of these? Twenty year, single malt…very smooth finish.”

“Yes. Thank you,” Erik replies, though the General is already pouring his drink, not waiting for his answer. He takes the proffered tumbler and downs it all in one go, the burn taking his focus – for a moment at least – from the inhibitor collar around his throat.

He sets the empty glass on the coffee table and moves into the bedroom, where a padded leather bench sits at the end of the bed. The crop is out tonight along with the paddle, spread out with an array of gags and dildos on top of the bedspread. It’s going to be one of _those_ nights, Erik thinks, heart sinking to the pit of his stomach; perhaps Stryker will give him more alcohol later, to take the edge off the pain.

The General follows him in, watching intently as he strips, swirling the ice in his glass as Erik shrugs off his shirt and steps out of his jeans. This is the way Stryker wants him every time; naked with all of his piercings removed, a clean slate he can mark with a warren of ugly bumps and bruises.

Ironic, for a man who purports to hate all mutants, how much he likes fucking them – fucking _Erik_ – and how much he’s willing to pay to do it.

“You’re clean?”

“Yes.” A stupid question, since an anal douche is always done before each and every client.

“And you didn’t prep ahead of time?”

Erik almost shudders, but manages to control himself in time. “No.”

“Good.” He doesn’t flinch when Stryker reaches for his flaccid cock, tugging it a couple of times as he bites down hard on Erik’s shoulder. “Get on.”

He gets a smack on the ass though he’s already moving, bracing his torso on the bench and settling on all fours on the padded arm and leg rests. Positioned in such a way that his torso is tilted at a forty five degree angle, Erik can clearly see their reflections in the large mirrored closet, forehead pressed against the headrest. He watches Stryker as the man straps him in, careful and methodical as he buckles the leather restraints into place.

The last piece is the ring gag Stryker fits around his head.

“Perfect,” the General praises, the same way Shaw croons ‘my dear boy’ when his hand is wrapped tightly around Erik’s neck. His clients all choose him for the same reason, he’s been told, not just because he’s beautiful with broad shoulders and a trim waist; they choose him because he’s strong and can take _so much,_ soaking up the intensity from both pleasure and pain. Some are like Stryker, keen to put a proud mutant in his place, while others just want the novelty of fucking one, safely collared for their protection. 

He can’t see Stryker’s hands but he can certainly feel them; three fingers slick with lube that he shoves into Erik’s hole, still too tight to make it anything but an excruciating burn. It _hurts_ , and he has to remind himself to breathe through the gag, trying – and failing – to relax as Stryker works him open. He can see the man grinning every time he gasps and clenches; hear him chuckle at the way Erik’s muscles strain reflexively against his bonds, his body still fighting it instead of welcoming the pain.

“You can take a lot more than this, can’t you, Erik?” Stryker says, reaching to fondle his cock with one hand as he keeps fucking him with the other. “I remember you took my entire fist like a champ the last time we were together. You like getting things shoved up your ass, don’t you, you filthy whore? Do you really think you’re better than us, hmm? That you’re something _special?_ That you’re not just a freak of nature, good for nothing but getting fucked?”

The words are poison, and nothing he hasn’t heard many times before, barely making a dent in the psychological armor he wears to each and every encounter he has with a ‘client’. They’re only using his body after all, and he’s long resigned himself to it, preferring _that_ to the alternative he’s been offered before…

He would rather have his mind left whole and intact, and pretend that selling himself for sex is a choice.

Stryker stops stroking once Erik’s cock swells in his hand, though the prep is not nearly enough to get him ready for penetration. At least Stryker won’t make him bleed, no matter how much it hurts; not for his benefit but because the man doesn’t want to draw blood. The General pays a large premium for the privilege of taking Erik without a condom, and demands a doctor’s assurance in writing each time that his whore is clean and STD free.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Stryker says, rubbing lube on his length before settling into position. Though Erik can’t see it, he can certainly _feel_ the man’s cock, pressing against his pucker as Stryker pries his ass cheeks apart. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax his whole body, trying to make it easier and knowing it won’t a difference.

Stryker laughs, and locks eyes with Erik in the mirror’s reflection. “Don’t forget to smile for the camera,” he taunts before slamming in, forcing his way past the tight ring of muscle with a vicious, brutal thrust.

It wrenches a scream so loud that the sound bounces around the room and echoes in his own ears.

Another scream, when the paddle comes down hard on his buttocks, searing pain through his body inside and out.

They must hear him, the staff that populates Stryker’s mansion, and the noises that come from the master bedroom; there is no mistaking the level of pain and abuse that’s being inflicted on the occupant within. But no one comes to check – no one has _ever_ come, in all the times he’s been here to service Stryker – and it’s another reminder that he has no choice but to bear it until it’s over.

Stryker doesn’t even fuck him at first, letting the vicious blows do the work; Erik clenches down hard with every swing, his hole tightening and milking the cock buried in his body. Then he switches over to the crop, so he can land stinging lashes across his back and shoulders, groaning when he sees the tears start falling and dripping into his gag.

It’s a relief when the beatings finally stop, and Stryker starts pistoning his hips instead.

“I’ve fucked so many whores, Erik,” Stryker breathes, his panting rough and urgent as he drives in and out, fingers digging painfully into his still stinging flesh. “Mutants of all shapes, sizes and colours. But you’re special, aren’t you? Just like Shaw said. You like pretending that you hate this. That this isn’t what you want from me or from all the other men who fuck your disgusting, worthless hole. But we both know that’s not true, don’t we, you sick little bitch? You like the humiliation of it, getting forced to put out. You can’t even come without being tied up and used until your ass is gaping open from cock.”

And just like that Erik moans, coming untouched, and spurts hot and sticky all over the hardwood floor.

As much as he hates it – wants to deny it with everything that he has – Erik knows there’s some grain of truth to Stryker’s words. His experiences with sex have been guided meticulously by Shaw from the start; his body conditioned to crave abuse along with pleasure given and taken. He could never admit it out loud – can barely admit it in his own mind, given what it says about Erik--

That the only way he can survive this is if he _chooses_ to want it, welcoming both the degradation and the pain.

He scarcely notices when Stryker stops rutting and comes, except for the way he’s digging his fingers into the bruises all over his skin. It hurts, but not more than the paddle or the crop, and less again than the giant dildo he slides in, after pulling out with a satisfied grunt.

“You should know that I’ve spoken to Shaw about a longer stay,” the man says, fucking leisurely into Erik’s sore ass, the raised bumps of the thick silicone deliciously painful against his battered anal walls. He hisses, which Stryker ignores, and moans long and low when the entire length gets shoved none too gently up his hole. 

It’s like getting fucked by a donkey, he thinks, wheezing through his gag, his eyes watering again from the overstimulation.

“I’m thinking about having a party, Erik, for some like-minded friends—”

Mutant haters, is what Stryker means, and he has to bite down harder to keep from hurling incomprehensible expletives around his ring gag.

“—enjoy you as much as I have, these past few months. I’ll bring in a few others too of course, for a bit of variety. But you’ll definitely be the main attraction, Erik, which I’m sure you’ll enjoy. Though…I think we ought to get in a bit of practice, don’t you? Work up to it? So a dozen cocks in a row wouldn’t be too much for you to handle?”

Horrified, Erik tugs uselessly at his restraints, only for Stryker to laugh and grip him by the jaw, forcing him to look at their reflections in the mirror. “Now, now, Erik. You don’t want to ruin our evening, do you? Things will go so much better if you cooperate. Or if you’d rather not, I can always beat you ‘til you’re bloody and then send you on your way.” 

It’s not much of a choice, to be gang banged or beaten raw, and in the end he knows Stryker will simply do what he wants. Still, Erik can make things less unpleasant if he plays his designated role, and so he whimpers pitifully around the gag and stops fighting Stryker’s hold.

“Very good.”

Stryker leaves him there on the stand, still impaled on the dildo, flesh burning from the uncomfortable stretch. He feels hollowed out, like his insides are on display, his hands and knees sore and aching from being so tightly bound. It would be better if Stryker just got on with it, whatever he’s got planned; the sooner they’re done, the sooner Erik can wash the come and sweat off of him and try to get some rest.

The door opens and Erik starts, his body clenching involuntarily at the sound, the movement driving the dildo a little further into his hole. He groans, the sensation almost overwhelming, though Stryker treats it as an invitation, reaching to tug on Erik’s cock until it’s half hard again from pleasurable pain.

Stryker’s PA comes into view behind Erik then, an angry, miserable man that he finds particularly loathsome. ‘Tom’ speaks to him with nothing but contempt and utter disdain, and yet his fascination with Erik is crystal clear, the revulsion and lust painted all over his face. He’s almost certain that he’s starred in the man’s twisted fantasies, and that he jerks off to the videos of Erik having sex with his boss.

“You can fuck him,” Stryker says, and Erik watches Tom’s face light up with glee, like it’s Christmas and New Year’s rolled into one. “Come in his ass, and make sure to plug him up with the dildo when you’re done.”

Hands shaking with excitement, Tom palms roughly at Erik’s raw buttocks, greedy fingers mapping the marks and tracing the rim of his hole. “Can I spank him? Make him scream?”

Stryker smiles indulgently and pats him on the shoulder, before pouring himself a glass of wine and taking a seat on the bed. “Whatever you want, old boy. He’s yours to use as you please.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He’s not proud of it, the first thought that comes to mind as Tom rushes to strip, shoving out of his pants and jerking his cock until it’s purple and leaking. There’s relief that he’s average in size and therefore easy to take, and also hope that his enthusiasm will mean a quick finish.

Erik should have known that the man would want much more than a straightforward fuck.

Unsure if it’s a onetime thing, Tom takes full advantage of Stryker’s offer, and begins by rimming Erik and licking long swaths along the edges of the dildo. Then he pulls the dildo halfway out before slamming it back in, fucking Erik ruthlessly until he’s groaning and drooling around his gag. 

“Stupid bitch,” Tom snarls, wedging two fingers in alongside, the sudden stretch painful enough to make Erik shout and tug at his restraints. “Do you really think that you’re better than us, hmm? A cheap whore, paid to get fucked in the ass and like it?”

From the bed, an amused Stryker chuckles. “He’s a whore alright, our lovely Erik. But he’s certainly not _cheap_.”

Tom laughs, and proceeds to rip the dildo from his ass without care or finesse, and it feels like he’s dragging half of Erik’s insides out along with the silicone. Then he shoves in and bottoms out with a grunt, cock dry and abrasive against his anal walls. Setting a blistering pace, he pounds into Erik’s hole with the strength of his whole body, as though he’s really trying to split him in two. And he slaps Erik’s buttocks until they’re raw and stinging red, his grin maniacal every time Erik looks in the mirror and meets his fevered gaze.

It’s a relief that Tom ends up coming rather quickly, too wired and drunk with power to truly drag things out. 

He’s no gentler pulling out of Erik than going in, and spends long moments tonguing his pucker, sore and gaping wide from the stretch. Once he tires of it he shoves the dildo back in, and downs the wine Stryker offers him with a greedy gulp. Tom finally leaves then with a shit-eating grin, though not before Stryker tells him to send ‘Logan’ up for his turn.

“You’ll appreciate this I think,” Stryker says, closing the distance again to brush the damp hair from his forehead. He pats Erik’s cheek with mocking affection, and reaches to squeeze his limp cock and fondle his testes. “Logan is a mutant with rather impressive stamina. A bit rough, and not exactly the brightest of the bunch, but he is _very_ good at what he does – fighting and fucking.”

Erik knows Logan as the driver who picks him up from Hellfire, and ferries him to and from his appointments with Stryker at the mansion. He’s not exactly talkative, though he’s polite enough with Erik, and treats him with none of the disdain and condescension of Stryker’s other employees. It makes sense knowing that Logan’s a mutant like him, though he doesn’t understand how anyone but a raging asshole could work for someone like William Stryker.

Then again, Logan probably wonders the same thing about Erik, and why he’s willing to whore himself out to a man who hates mutants.

He shows up about five minutes later and enters the bedroom without knocking, eyes roaming with curiosity over Erik’s splayed and nude body. Shrugging out of his leather jacket, he tosses it on the end of the bed, and reaches for the beer that Stryker hands him with a grunt.

“I’m here. What do you need?”

Stryker beams. “Nothing too difficult to handle. I just need you to fuck him and make it last.”

“I didn’t ask for no prostitute,” Logan says, something like disgust in his tone of voice, though Erik can’t tell if it’s over his profession or his frankly pitiful state.

“You’re right, you didn’t.” Stryker shrugs, though his eyes glitter dangerously at Logan’s response. “ _I’m_ the one who paid Hellfire a tidy sum for an evening with Mr. Lehnsherr. He’s here to do whatever I want with him, when and how I want it. And what I _want_ is for you to appreciate the generous boon I’m giving you, and do as I ask. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Logan answers with a frown.

“Now thank me for the privilege of fucking my whore.”

There’s silence for a long moment before Logan speaks again. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Good.”

Satisfied, Stryker refills his glass and settles in for another show. Only Logan remains within Erik’s limited field of view, standing beside the bench as he strips efficiently out of his t-shirt and jeans. Unlike Stryker or his PA, Logan disrobes completely, exposing himself to Erik the same way Erik can’t help but be exposed. It makes it easier to make-believe that this is something he actually wants for himself; that he’s a participant in the act instead of just a convenient hole.

It also helps that Logan is gorgeous, his body rippling with corded muscle that Erik wants to lick all over. His cock is thick and long, almost as big as the silicone dildo, which makes him thankful that he’s been fucked loose enough that he won’t have any trouble taking it in.

He watches avidly as Logan slicks himself with lube, slow and deliberate jerks along the length and of his shaft and over the bulbous tip. Hitches his breath with anticipation at the feel of his hands pulling him wide, palms broad and calloused, rubbing deliciously over his sensitized skin. Logan is careful, if not actually gentle as the removes the thick dildo, dragging a wet and audible schlick from Erik's anal walls as they give way. There's blunt pressure _there_ as Logan settles in, the delicious, measured stretch as he’s slowly breached, his pucker furling open around the man’s glorious prick. 

It’s…perfect.

Logan fucks into him with intent, strokes forceful but controlled, with none of the violence Stryker and Tom inflicted on Erik solely for their own amusement. He fucks like he wants them _both_ to feel good, driving his hips and impaling a pliant Erik on his prick. And he sets a steady pace that’s just shy of too much, hands holding him in place, sending slivers of pleasure up and down the length of his spine.

It’s been a long time since it’s felt like _this,_ Erik thinks, where he doesn’t have to try to lose himself to sensation; to forget he doesn’t want this, not really, being fucked and _fucked_ until he’s gasping and moaning for breath. He thinks Logan might be exactly who he'd pick himself, if he were actually permitted to choose; a partner instead of a transaction made to increase Hellfire’s profits.

Shaw is the only one who doesn’t have to pay to fuck him, though Erik would hardly call it a choice… 

He sinks into the bliss like a warm bath, every time Logan digs in and drives a little moan of pleasure through his ring gag. Every stroke seems to rub and press and reveal brand new sensations, each angled differently and leaving no part of his insides untouched. He screams when Logan catches his prostate with a particularly well-aimed thrust, the sudden jolt making his toes curl and his fists clench and pull against the restraints. And that’s when the man really starts pounding in, rocking the bench and fucking him senseless, making Erik’s eyes water and his body weightless and unmoored until the entire world goes blessedly, blindingly _white_ —

He experiences the longest, most intense orgasm of his life, and Erik’s whole body goes rigid as he comes with a shout.

Stryker says something from the bed, low and amused – praise for Logan or something demeaning about Erik – he can’t quite make it out. But the next words are clear as he comes down from his high, and Erik would scream and beg if he thought it would do anything to change Stryker’s sadistic mind…

“Make him come again. I want to watch him cry.”

Logan does what he’s told.

What was fantastic quickly becomes increasingly intolerable, with Stryker’s earlier comments about Logan's mutation coming back to haunt him. Logan fucks him again with the same verve and intensity, battering his already sensitive flesh until his ass feels torn and flayed open. It hurts _and_ it’s good, and all of it _too soon_ and _too much,_ the pain-pleasure pushing his senses to the extreme. His spent cock is gradually, ruthlessly coaxed back to attention, adding to the discomfort of skin that's raw and tingling. Logan fucks and fucks until Erik goes hoarse from his screaming, with snot running from his nose and tears trailing down his cheeks...

Erik doesn’t feel anything at all in _any_ part of his body, by the time Logan finally grunts and spurts deep inside of him.

And when Logan pulls out Stryker immediately replaces him, sliding his cock inside Erik’s gaping hole and continuing his torment.

He loses consciousness, still strapped to the bench, long before Stryker comes inside of him for a second, final time.   
  


* * *

When Stryker wakes him the next morning, he finds he's been tucked into bed, naked except for an anal plug wedged between his buttocks. There are marks and bruises all over his skin, and every inch of his body aches, a physical reminder that will likely last for days if not weeks. At least he’s allowed to take a hot shower to sooth his muscles and rinse away the sweat, though not before Stryker humiliates him one more time, knowing full well that Erik must comply with even the most outrageous of requests.

He’s made to squat while Stryker replaces the plug with the end of a funnel, and wait until all the leftover come from the night before drains into an expensive crystal bowl.

Stryker pours half of the stale semen into a wine glass, and makes Erik drink it before it has time to cool from his own body heat.

Then he has the cook mix the rest in with his breakfast, and feeds Erik the ‘special’ pancakes with a smug, indulgent grin.

Even with Shaw and all the years of humiliation and abuse he’s suffered at his hands, Erik’s never felt quite so disgusted – with Stryker, with himself, and with how utterly powerless he is to get out of this predicament.

“That was a very good practice run,” the man says soon after ‘breakfast’, indulging a whim by personally escorting Erik to the car. Logan is there already, waiting to drive him back to Hellfire, expression inscrutable as it’s always been. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again, just as soon as I can make arrangements with Mr. Shaw to book you for that party.” Then he slaps Erik’s ass hard enough to make him bite back a scream, laughing heartily as he turns and heads back inside.

“Come on. Let’s get you home,” Logan says, and Erik doesn’t have the energy left or the inclination to correct him.

Because Hellfire _is_ home, for all intents and purposes, ever since his parents died and his mutation brought him Shaw’s unwelcome attention. It’s been so many years now that he hardly remembers his life _before_ ; that he was ever anything but Shaw’s pet to do with as he pleases.

He runs a hand along the edge of his inhibitor collar, already thinking how good it’ll feel when Shaw takes it off in their bedroom, hands rubbing gently at abraded skin before putting him to bed…

Erik falls asleep in the backseat, and doesn’t wake up the rest of the way there.


End file.
